


Star-struck

by withlightning



Category: Muse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withlightning/pseuds/withlightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Star-struck [adjective]: being captivated by famous people or by fame itself. Or by actual stars. Can also stand as a codename for something completely else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star-struck

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Response for [](http://community.livejournal.com/mkmeme/>)'s anon prompt: Matt/Dom - In denial cuddling :3
> 
> 2\. Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/withthunder/2794.html#cutid1), July 18th 2010

Being woken up by someone poking you in the ribs isn't Dom's favourite way to wake up. If he gets to choose, he chooses waking up lazily, leisurely, stretching and enjoying; finding all the cool spots under his pillow and quilt with his hands and feet, slowly waking up and breathing deep. He likes the peace and serenity, the rare moments of quietness and bright morning sunshine spilling on his face, warming and saying _hello_ , saying _good morning_. He likes the space and comfort, likes the softness of his bed, likes to wake up alone. He likes to wake gradually, his under pillow-cooled hand sliding on his own body; twisting a nipple, caressing his stomach and going lower, stroking himself, touching himself the way he likes the best. That is the way he prefers to wake up. Not in the middle of the darkest night, only after couple hours of sleep – dizzy and disoriented and annoyed.

No, not like this.

"Dom, Dom, wake up, Dom." Insistent poking, one pointy finger hitting the side of his rib stingingly. "Dom. Are you awake, Dom?" More poking.

Dom steals his quilt back and hides underneath; wishing Matt to go away, sleep already luring him back to unconsciousness. That doesn't happen, obviously, because when Matt decides something, he's doing it. Dom hates Matt's stubborness sometimes.

"Dom, you have to see this!" Matt exclaims, bouncing a bit on the side of the bed, jolting Dom from his protective cocoon—And then the quilt is being ripped away and he's left bereft, chilly air assaulting his skin and he snaps his eyes open. The world is blurry and he blinks few times, in an attempt of getting rid of the haze.

Warm hand lands on his side, the place he got poked about mere seconds ago, just resting there; a heavy and well-known weight. And it's nice. He prefers to have Matt's palm against his skin instead of his long and bony finger stabbing at his sensitive spots. "Dom," Matt says with more sedate pace, pronouncing the name, like he's suddenly tasting the shape of it; done complete 180* in a heartbeat.

Dom inhales and exhales few times, enjoying Matt being quiet and touching him – and rolls on his back, hitting his hip on Matt's knee as he does so, and Matt's hand moves along with him, now pressing against his sleep-warm stomach, unmoving. Dom opens his eyes with effort, feels the interrupted sleep in his joints, and zeroes his gaze on Matt. As he suspected; Matt hasn't slept at all yet, faint smell of red wine floating in the air, and he can see Matt is excited about something – that much he could have known by the way he was being woken up – and he raises one sardonic eyebrow and says with surprisingly low voice, "Yes?"

Matt stares at something that's lower than Dom's face; Dom's stomach; stares at his own hand on Dom's stomach, Dom realizes. He can feel Matt wiggling his fingers, the pads of his fingers touching Dom's skin again and again, like a melody of sorts - kind of like playing piano, but more gentle way. This isn't the first time Matt does something like this, freezes the time and becomes something that's quite alien to Dom; becomes something Dom isn't able to comprehend all that well and he isn't scared in moments like these; he's breathless and always anxiously waiting for more, waiting for them to go somewhere – forward, backward, he doesn't care. All he knows is that on moments like these he feels _off_ , somehow, like he's watching them, him and Matt, from a distance and thinking that he's so fucking stupid for not reciprocating, for not doing anything and this time he decides to do something; maybe lift his own hand on top of Matt's or roll his hips, because that's one thing he wants to do; wants to move his hips, wants to take Matt's warm hand in his and guide it lower—

And Matt shifts his gaze, eyes dancing with merriment and affection as he locks his eyes with Dom's and says, "Come with me."

  
~*~*~

  
The roof of their hotel is spacious and Dom knows how Matt likes to spend time on roofs - he doesn't wonder why, for he can see it for himself as his interested, tired eyes take in the scenery. Even in the dark, the surrounding city is breath-taking in its massiveness, pulsing with life and bright lights below them, wide open sky above them; sprinkled with shimmering stars; big, almost full moon casting a beautiful play of shades and white, shining light on every visible surface of the roof, and on Matt. Matt looks dramatic, looks like he belongs, like he's soaring, about to rise high above and fly, and Dom wonders if Matt still feels like he could fly, could touch the stars.

Matt lifts his bottle of red wine on his lips and tips his head back, throat swallowing and Dom is fixated on the shadows on Matt's face; the long, dark half circles under his eyes and they're closed, formed by his lashes, the long curve of his nose and forehead silvery under the moonlight, and he swallows, himself – Matt is truly gorgeous and painstakingly at home in this atmosphere. Dom holds onto his quilt harder, tightens it on his shoulders and hunches slightly inside the warmth.

It's cool out, the roof chilly beneath his naked feet and he's glad he put on his sweater bottoms because his legs would be cold without them, the quilt covering only so much of his body. Matt releases the bottle from his lips and gazes up at the sky, sitting down gingerly, back against the waist-high side of the roof. Dom follows his cue and joins Matt, crossing his legs and pulling the quilt to shield his lap, as well as his back. Glancing at Matt, he sees Matt is still staring at the sky, trying to take in the whole wide range of it, eyes flickering from left to right and back again, up and down and straight ahead. Just as Dom's about to open his mouth and ask what this all is about, Matt says, "Wait."

And Dom does. He shifts a bit closer to Matt, huddling for more warmth and turns to face the black sky as well. He sees countless amounts of stars, just like he always does – just like everyone always does, when it's a clear night. Some stars are brighter than others, some are clustered, some look like they are twinkling and his head starts to hurt slightly as he tries to squint and figure out how far the stars are. Matt is eerily quiet next to him, like he's waiting something as well, anticipating and suddenly he squeals in a high-pitched voice, "There, did you see that?" And points somewhere in between the cluster of stars and a few, brighter ones. Before Dom can say anything, Matt continues, "And there, another one."

Dom is still trying to see what Matt is obviously seeing, but all he can detect is mass of black. He can guess what this is about, though. Matt reaches inside his quilt, tugs, and finds his arm; cool fingers wrap themselves around Dom's wrist and pull his hand out. Matt's still not looking at him, instead keeps an eye on the blackness and laces their fingers together, in a familiar way, like they'd always held hands like this – and leaves their index fingers against each other, pointing ahead. Then Matt lifts both their arms and says, "A bit closer, if you will," and Dom moves, right next to Matt, secures his quilt once again and concentrates.

The sky flashes and Matt points their hands, and yes, Dom sees: shooting stars. He sees three of them in a second time span, _flash, flash, flash_ and more is coming. It's mesmerising, the way they just flash and leave a quick trail and disappear, and it looks like the stars are raining down on Earth.

"Do you see now?" Whispered in the shell of his ear suddenly, warm breath ghosting along his cheek and neck, and Dom nods, unconsciously leaning his head against Matt's. The air is still chilly and Dom's toes are cold, but other than that, he's more than fine, and this whole stolen moment feels magical; feels amazing and he's sure he'll remember this night as long as he lives; it will become one of those fond memories he has, memories he's safe-keeping for himself, memories that will make him smile and relive those moments over and over again. "You still sleepy?" Matt asks gently, squeezing Dom's hand.

Dom's heart speeds up and he says, "No."

Matt's thumb pets the length of Dom's index finger, reminding Dom yet again that Matt isn't made for being still, that he needs to be in constant motion; the absolute opposite of Dom. He sometimes wonders how two so different people can be so similar, can have so much history together that they're blended, intertwined, inseparable; like they're the same entity. He turns his head to look at Matt again, and isn't surprised to see Matt looking at him, as well.

They stare at each other, faces inches away, holding hands and Dom would laugh if he'd find the situation even remotely funny. It isn't, it isn't funny at all; instead it's intense and Dom finds himself being completely out of his depth, like he usually is with Matt when Matt does something utterly unexpected. Waking Dom up in the middle of the night isn't all that rare, unfortunately, but this whole hand-holding thing and none of them shying away from whatever it is that is going on; that is unexpected. For the most occasions, Dom follows Matt's lead, doesn't restrict him, and doesn't hold him back. Dom supports Matt, vocally or just being there and he really appreciates that aspect in them - in all of them: him, Matt, Chris, Tom; they can always trust the others to have their backs. And yet, he and Matt have always been a bit different, a bit closer, a bit _more_. They've had something going on, something more, from the day one.

Matt squeezes his hand again and keeps rubbing his thumb and says, "This isn't hand-holding." There's a certain vibe in the way he says it, teasingly acknowledging what Dom has been thinking. This means that Matt is thinking about it as well. Dom just stares at Matt, little sparkly flashes reflecting from his eyes, from the gleam in them and it's clichéd as hell, but Dom can't help thinking that Matt's eyes are sparkling – and more importantly, sparkling for _him_. And yeah, they are so totally holding hands.

"I beg to differ," Dom replies and shivers as some cool air slithers its way inside his cocoon, rises up the hair in the back of his neck.

Matt smiles mischievously, "Oh, of course." And, okay, they're definitely flirting – which isn't all that different from other flirts they've been doing during the years, lately more often than they used to, though - but this seems more serious, in a way. If you can call flirting serious, that is. It's just the two of them, above everything else, surrounded by darkness and fucking shooting stars and Dom can taste the red wine Matt's been drinking; it's intoxicating and Dom wonders how would it taste on Matt's tongue, in his mouth, on his lips and all he has to do is just lean, lean just about two inches and he would find out.

Dom discards the idea about steering them into safer topics, such as aliens, politics, economics or the most used distraction: music. He could say something about being so high and watching the stars and thinking about aliens and world destruction, apocalypse and—

But no, he isn't going to. For once he wants not to stop this, wants to see what will happen, wants to follow through; wants to see everything. So he tugs Matt's not-hand-holding hand and Matt's eyes widen comically, and that's the last thing Dom sees before closing his eyes as his lips land on Matt's.

It's surprisingly gentle kiss, surprisingly gentle for _their_ first kiss, Matt's warm lips just pressing against his, unhurriedly, as if savouring the moment. Dom feels his own breathing stuttering, excited and adrenaline-fuelled and he swipes his tongue across Matt's lips and yes, there is the flavour of rich, fruity wine, bitter and sweet blending into _Matt_ , and he hears Matt making a stilted noise in the back of his throat - almost like a whimper, but something that means more, means something that Dom understands, something he feels lodged in his own chest.

Matt lifts his other hand to take a hold of Dom's head, tangling his fingers in Dom's sleep-rumpled hair, pressing in harder for a moment before guiding his own lips on Dom's cheek, on the spot where his jaw turns into his ear. "This isn't cuddling, just so you know," Matt declares, whispering, and nuzzles his nose against the place where Dom's shoulder meets his neck, rubbing gently back and forth, words hot against his skin.

Dom turns and twists his head to give Matt more to touch and buries his face in Matt's hair, inhaling deeply. Voice muffled he says, "Some people might call this cuddling."

Matt sighs and touches Dom's heated skin with his lips, a soft pressure against his neck. "It's not," he whispers again and flicks his tongue, tasting the same spot.

Dom can feel pinpricks running in his body and he shudders slightly, biting back an embarrassing whimper. "It really is," he says gently and grips the quilt harder, keeps it around himself, fingers hurting with the pressure.

"Nuh-uh," Matt denies and shakes his head, open lips gliding on Dom's throat. And yes, it feels divine, even better than Dom ever had the brains to think about, and he wants to take a hold of Matt's head and guide it higher, to kiss Matt, to make out with Matt like the teenager he feels – and Dom smiles faintly at that; he's pretty sure he felt like a fumbling teenager the last time when he actually was a teenager. Then again, he might have hoped for something like this, back then as well.

"What is this," Dom asks, breath hitching, "then, genius?"

"This isn't cuddling," Matt responds, hand sneaking under Dom's quilt to caress skin and Dom relaxes, automatically taking a better position, sliding down a bit and Matt follows suit. "This could be snuggling," Matt continues, hand petting Dom's stomach and chest, dipping on the sides to caress his side, tickling, "might be necking," heated lips latching onto the junction of his neck; sucking with force, biting with sting and Dom's eyes fall closed as they roll into his head and holy fuck, they so totally are teenagers, both of them. Dom goes almost hard to being painfully so in approximately less than a second. Matt detaches his lips with a loud, smacking noise and leans back a bit – lifting his fingers, he runs them gently on the mark that has to be there: Dom can feel that spot beating in sync with his own rushed heart, thudding and burning, and Matt's touch circling the sides of the bruise.

It's the look on Matt's face that really hits him. The look is intense and dark, like he's seeing so much more than the mark on Dom's neck, fingers trailing around it. Matt's biting his lip, his full, wet lip glistening in the moonlight and Dom is transfixed, feeling the invisible pull and he licks his own lips, a reflex, and he realizes his whole body is frozen, stilled, waiting. Blood rushes to his ears and he's sure his face is flushed and Matt's touch is electrifying, it's exhilarating and Matt says with strained voice, "But this really, really isn't cuddling," and presses his thumb on the mark, hard and Dom does moan, the temperature on the roof climbing higher and higher and it's so fucking hot, Matt is so fucking hot and Dom knew Matt would be so fucking hot and it shouldn't surprise him how surreal the situation feels; but it does; it does surprise him, because never ever, even in his wildest dreams did he ever think that Matt would actually go for this, that they'd really do something about the whole not-cuddling thing.

The dull ache in his neck spreads lower and he tilts his head back, breathing through his mouth, not getting enough air and Matt breathes out, " _God_ ," tearing at Dom, scrambling himself on top of Dom, straddling Dom's lap in a matter of seconds, like he couldn't wait another minute to get his hands really on Dom.

From there it's frantic fumbling, bruised lips and bite marks all over Dom's body; sucking and cursing and Matt's hair being fisted and twisted to the point of what must be hurting - only, it's making Matt go absolutely wild. Whereas Dom comes silently, Matt swallowing and licking rhythmically, Matt just makes a low, keening noise, his mouth around Dom and claws at Dom's thigh, holding on hard. Dom cards his fingers through Matt's damp hair and opens his eyes to see the horizon lightening, sun rising.

Matt turns his head and rests it on Dom's hip and Dom keeps petting him, gently. "Wow," Matt exclaims after getting his breathing into somewhat normal level, and Dom chuckles, says, "Yeah."

The stars are still shooting, golden and silvery stripes disappearing into the sunrise, meteor after another and it truly is spectacular to witness this. "Still not cuddling," Matt grumbles tiredly and Dom smiles.

"Okay," he says and keeps his hand in Matt's hair, massaging his head with slow and precise movements, "not cuddling. Star-struck." And Matt laughs at that, vibration tickling along Dom's legs, up to his waist and he feels content; content in a way he doesn't think he ever has felt before.

When Matt stops moving altogether and starts not-quite snoring, Dom casts one last look at the sky - different hues of blue painting the horizon with what seems to become a lovely, sunny day, one lonely star flashing, speeding and falling – and rouses Matt enough to get him up, pulls his own sweats up and reaches for his quilt, saying, "Let's go to bed, yeah?"

Matt nods, eyes almost closed, wet stain decorating the front of his pants and Dom gives him a fond look, prompts, "Come on," and takes Matt's hand in his, pressing one, quick and affectionate kiss on Matt's red, swollen lips and tugs.

  
~*~*~

  
When he wakes up the next time, it's slow and langurous, sunlight caressing his face and he stretches, feels the pull of his muscles, feels the soreness in places. His eyes open wide as he remembers last night and for a moment the wonders if it was real, sits up, but the Matt-shaped, empty spot on the bed next to him tells him it really was real; tells him that it still is real.

 

The shower is running in the bathroom and Dom flops back, head and shoulders thudding against the pillow. He turns his head to check the clock on the night table; it must be near midday by now and they really need to hurry, find Tom and Chris and Morgan and the others and check out of the hotel and there's still packing to do and—

His gaze lands on a note, bent out of cardboard of sorts, looks like the menu of the room service – except there's a word scribbled on it with Matt's untidy hand-writing, and one silly, misshaped smiley drawn next to the word. Dom smiles so hard he's hurting and whispers the word out loud, " _Star-struck_ ," and traces the word with the tip of his finger, like the obvious girl with a ridiculous crush he is.

The shower is still running and Dom jumps up, closes the distance to the bathroom and opens the door without knocking. Matt's head snaps to look at him, a blinding grin shaping on his lips instantaneously and they just beam at each other, totally whipped and star-struck and _happy_.

Steam twirls in the room and Dom's naked skin turns to clammy, and as he watches the water cascading over Matt's body, he chokes out, "We should be going already, but, uh—"

"Yeah, no." Matt interrupts and the heat in his eyes is a beautiful thing, gaze roaming up and down and when he beckons Dom to join him, a moment later, Dom does.

Stars like them can afford to pay for the extra hour.

  
\- Fin


End file.
